


All Tied Up and Nowhere to Go

by chains_archivist



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Boys in Chains, Humor, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By Keelywolfe</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Tied Up and Nowhere to Go

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> uthor's Notes: Well, it is midnight where I live, which makes it my birthday and I am now an old lady of twenty-five. Yup, buy me a cane and make me some oatmeal, I'm old. Therefore, I decided that I must share a fic as a gift to all the M_A people. This is just a silly little romp, everyone, so enjoy!
> 
> Summary: Obi-Wan doesn't think Qui-Gon listens enough, so he does a little something to change that.
> 
> Disclaimer: A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away, George Lucas created Star Wars. And he looked at it and saw that it was good. And all was right in the world. But then, we saw that Obi-Wan doth look upon Qui-Gon with lust, and that Mr. Lucas was not likely to include that in the next movie, so we said screw it and wrote it ourselves, even though we do not make any money off of this. And all was right with the world.

It was like swimming through thick liquid, his limbs felt heavy and clumsy as his mind slowly surfaced. Mouth cottony dry, Qui-Gon struggled to swallow around the thickness of his tongue.

"Drink this, it'll help." A familiar voice and gentle hands lifted his chin. Qui-Gon felt the rim of a cup pressed to his lips. Not bothering to open his eyes he drank the cool liquid gratefully, not recognizing the taste but enjoying it regardless. The sensation of floating was fading away and he released it regretfully, he hadn't felt like this since he'd drunk a quart of Y'loin brandy when he was a padawan and, ah, weren't those the days...

There was a sharp jab of pain in his head from drinking the cold liquid too quickly and he winced, lifting a hand to rub the ache away...

...only to discover that his hands wouldn't move.

That got his eyes opened quickly and he blinked in the almost painfully bright light, focusing enough to see Obi-Wan crouched in front of him, still holding the cup.

"Here you need to drink more, this will help counter the effects." Obi-Wan lifted the cup to Qui-Gon's mouth again and he drank without thought, empting the cup.

"There, that should be enough," Obi-Wan said cheerfully, moving to the small kitchen nook to rinse the cup and put it away.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon was frankly confused and still disoriented from, well, whatever had hit him. He tried to move again and couldn't, his hands and feet simply refused to cooperate. Blinking he looked down at himself. Still wearing his sleep pants and tunic, in his bare feet, he was sitting in one of the chairs in his quarters. No, he saw, taking a second, startled look, he was -tied- to one of the chairs in his quarters, his feet were fastened to the chair legs and his arms were apparently tied behind him.

Obi-Wan had walked back over to him and was just standing there, watching and Qui-Gon's confusion made a quick trip into annoyance. "Obi-Wan, what is going on?"

"It was in your tea."

Qui-Gon stared at his apprentice for a long moment before saying most intelligently, "Huh?"

"It was in your tea," Obi-Wan repeated patiently, kneeling down and checking the restraints at Qui-Gon's feet. He'd tied them hurriedly but they seemed to be tight enough without cutting off circulation. The straps themselves were velvety-soft and even if Qui-Gon struggled he couldn't do more than mildly chafe his skin. Glancing up at the Qui-Gon in question, he had to hold back a smirk at his master's obvious confusion. "The somnifre," he said aloud. "It was in your tea."

Memory was returning to Qui-Gon slowly. Yes, he had been drinking tea, sitting at the table while Obi-Wan prepared breakfast. And then the world had seemed to tip on its side and...somnifre. "What was somnifre doing in my tea?" he blurted out, still feeling as if he'd blundered into the middle of a conversation. Somnifre was a sedative, not generally harmful but certainly not an ingredient in any of Qui-Gon's preferred teas. Not that he knew of anyway.

"I put it there," Obi-Wan admitted. At Qui-Gon's astonished look he said defensively, "Well, how else was I supposed to get you tied to the chair?"

Astonishment melted into incredulity. Qui-Gon's mouth worked silently as he struggled for an answer to that question. This situation had crossed the borders of strange and into the realm of the truly bizarre. "I...I don't know how to answer that, Obi-Wan," he said finally. There, he'd kept his voice calm and even and he would just find out what was really going on and then maybe the world would get back on its axis.

"Perhaps I could answer that if I knew why I was tied to a chair in the first place!" Qui-Gon exploded, tugging vainly on his restraints. And considering how close he was to strangling the young man kneeling at his feet it was probably better that he was tied-up, otherwise he'd have to explain to the Council why he'd killed his padawan. Still, perhaps this could be considered extenuating circumstances. A quick explanation, a little paperwork...

Obi-Wan calmly watched him struggle in the chair until Qui-Gon finally gave up and slumped back, glaring at his padawan and fuming silently. He took a deep breath, let it out and then said, as calmly as he could. "All right then, Obi-Wan, perhaps you'd care to explain?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you."

Qui-Gon blinked. Could somnifre affect the hearing? "You cannot possibly be serious."

"I assure you I am."

That gave Qui-Gon a pause, and he hesitated a long moment, trying to think of how to form his words. Speaking in a voice usually reserved for the criminally insane, he said, slowly, "Obi-Wan, I'm right here, all the time. I live with you for Force's sake! If you want to talk to me...I mean, there is no need to resort to these measures just to talk to me."

Obi-Wan was shaking his head before Qui-Gon finished. "Ah, but that is where you're wrong. I can -talk- to you certainly." He shifted to his feet, stretching and groaning softly as his joints popped before he continued, meeting Qui-Gon's gaze with is own. "I can talk, but you don't listen. You just nod and smile in all the proper places and don't hear a word I say. These," he said, gesturing at Qui-Gon's restraints, "Are to make sure you hear me."

"Obi-Wan, that's ridiculous."

"It is," Obi-Wan said agreeably. "But I'm willing to forgive you."

In that moment Qui-Gon decided that he had had more than enough extreme oddity for this morning. Time to end this. He closed his eyes, reaching for the Force and concentrating on the bindings, only to feel the energy slip away from him. Startled, he reached again and again it evaded him, like water seeping from his cupped hands. Annoyance shifted into shock as he opened his eyes to see Obi-Wan smiling at him. "What have you done?"

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan said, "Now, Master, you trained me better than that." He touched a small box that was sitting on a nearby table and with a dawning sense of horror Qui-Gon recognized it. "It's a Force inhibitor," Obi-Wan told him unnecessarily. "And I called in more favors than I care to think about getting it. Of course, it means that I can't use the Force either but I think that is only fair."

He grinned again, in a way that didn't make Qui-Gon feel any better. Not one bit. "Don't worry, Master. I have this all plotted out," Obi-Wan said cheerfully, "I picked today because you don't have any appointments and I even put a message in your file that you're spending the day on deep meditation and aren't to be disturbed for anything less than a full-fledged attack on the temple by flesh-eating ewoks."

Qui-Gon wasn't certain if he should laugh or cry, even as he grudgingly admired Obi-Wan's attention to detail. His padawan was still standing in front of him, rocking on his heels and grinning, obviously well pleased with himself and Qui-Gon had to fight the sudden urge to laugh. This was all so ridiculous that even tied to a chair he could see the humor in it. Looking down at the floor he struggled to compose himself enough to look at his padawan again.

Obi-Wan was waiting expectantly and Qui-Gon sighed. May as well get this over with. "Well," Qui-Gon said finally, "What did you want to talk about?"

To his surprise, Obi-Wan's expression shifted. His smile faltered a bit and he actually looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, that's complicated," he hedged, focusing his attention on the ceiling.

Qui-Gon leaned forward until his bonds stopped him, his curiosity piqued in spite of himself. What could Obi-Wan be determined to speak to him about that he tied Qui-Gon to a -chair- to make him listen. Definitely a must hear story. How bad could it be? Perhaps he'd tied Qui-Gon to the chair out of fear that his master would kill him when he found out what his padawan had done?

"Well," Obi-Wan began and Qui-Gon focused his attention on the younger man, determined not to miss this. "You remember a few months ago, I came to you and told you that I...lovedyouandIwantedyou?" A deep blush stained Obi-Wan's cheeks. Qui-Gon stared at him in astonishment, and was actually faintly disappointed.

"That's all?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. "That's what this is all about?" At Obi-Wan's expression he hastily amended his words. "I mean, I thought that we had settled that. It's simply isn't appropriate..."

"No, Master, you settled it," Obi-Wan said very softly and something in his voice made Qui-Gon pause. "You settled it and expected me to turn my emotions off like they were a switch, on your say so." There was an undercurrent of pain to those words, a hint of bitterness and Qui-Gon felt a faint curl of his own pain, that he had hurt Obi-Wan and hadn't even realized it.

"And I nodded and smiled like the good little Padawan that I am," Obi-Wan continued, a faint gleam in his eyes now. "And then I immediately started plotting something like this." Obi-Wan bit back a smile at the expression on Qui-Gon's face. The older man was gaping at him as if he'd sprouted another head.

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Qui-Gon's ear, fighting another smile as older man's eyes widened. It made his master look much younger than he actually was, gray hair notwithstanding and this time Obi-Wan gave into the urge to smile, his grin widening as Qui-Gon's apprehension upped another notch. This, he decided, could be very interesting indeed.

*************************************************

He was going to kill himself.

If Qui-Gon had ever considered how it would feel to be tied to a chair, which, admittedly, he hadn't, he never would have thought the word he would use would be boring.

Boring and irritating, he amended. His arms ached and so did his legs; he'd long ago abandoned Jedi stoicism and settled into all but squirming in his chair in an effort to keep his circulation going.

Add in the fact that his hair kept falling forward into his face and efforts at shaking it back continued to be a dismal failure made this experience one he would rather not repeat.

And his nose itched.

Yes, suicide was starting to seem more and more alluring.

Or better yet, he could kill Obi-Wan.

Now that idea had a certain appeal. Obi-Wan was sprawled across another chair, his feet dangling over the arm, oblivious to the threat to his mortality that was sitting only a few feet away, although perhaps he should have known better.

They had been sitting here, completely silent, for what Qui-Gon swore was at least a standard decade but which the obviously broken chronometer on the wall stated was a little more than an hour.

Obi-Wan was staring up at the ceiling, oddly serene for a soon to be dead man. He was only wearing a pair of pants and oddly, his boots, which should have looked strange but was actually somewhat appealing.

Qui-Gon blinked. Appealing? Where had that come from? The somnifre must still be affecting him, he decided. But, Force, if it wasn't true. Obi-Wan's bare chest was all smooth skin and taut muscle, all exposed to Qui-Gon's suddenly interested eyes. Actually, Obi-Wan was quite beautiful, he...

Was dragging one booted foot across the floor and making what was quite possibly the most annoying sound that Qui-Gon had ever had the dubious privilege of hearing.

His padawan was apparently still lost in thought, and deaf as well, Qui-Gon thought sourly as Obi-Wan did it again. And again, until insanity was looming a lot closer than suicide and thoughts of murder swarmed over Qui-Gon again.

"Obi-Wan!" he said sharply, his voice loud in the quiet room and he startled Obi-Wan so much that the younger man almost fell out of his chair. A muffled snicker earned Qui-Gon a glare and he stifled his laughter and tried again.

"Obi-Wan, if you went through all this trouble to talk to me, perhaps you should be, oh, I don't know, talking?"

Obi-Wan tilted his head, looking interested. "Really? What do you want me to say?"

Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon counted to ten in three languages before he attempted to speak again. "Look, you're the one who wanted to talk. All I wanted was breakfast and perhaps to read the morning reports. Instead, I am tied to a chair, haven't eaten a thing, I'm tired, I'm annoyed and my nose itches and I can't even itch it!" His voice had risen on each word until he was shouting, and then Qui-Gon snapped his mouth shut, glaring at his wayward apprentice.

The young man's lips twitched and Qui-Gon swore that if he laughed, if he so much as giggled, then he would find a way to kill him. If it took twenty years, if he had to turn to the Dark Side, if he had to join a band of Tusken raiders and eat gruilin worms he would do it. And then he could die happy.

Obi-Wan was spared from an ignominious death by the sheer grace of being able to control his laughter. Instead, he stood and walked over to Qui-Gon. A touch of apprehension went through the older man as he was reminded forcibly of how vulnerable he really was but all Obi-Wan did was scratch his nose.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon mumbled ungraciously. Obi-Wan didn't move away though, just crossed his arms and sighed.

"All right then. I suppose we'll have to do this eventually," Obi-Wan sighed again, rubbing his temples as if he had a headache. Qui-Gon's lips twisted slightly, he could relate to that. "All right, why don't you want to be my lover?" Obi-Wan said finally. "And don't try to tell me you don't want me either," he snapped, cutting off Qui-Gon's automatic response before turning away to pace around the room. "I mean, if I believed for even an instant that you didn't love me or want me then I never would have done this. So don't lie to me." Pleadingly, and Obi-Wan stopped pacing and instead knelt again at Qui-Gon's feet, eyes searching his master's face. "I just want you to be honest so don't deny how you feel. I already know."

Wetting his lips, Qui-Gon hesitated, words lost to him for a moment. He heard every word that Obi-Wan had said but somehow they seemed less important than how beautiful Obi-Wan was, so close that Qui-Gon could smell the clean scent of his skin, could see the blue flecks in the younger man's gray eyes.

He blinked as he realized Obi-Wan was still waiting and he frantically tried to remember the question. "Uh...it's...it just...brings tension to the teaching relationship," he said weakly. Obi-Wan's expression said very clearly that this was not what he was looking for so Qui-Gon tried again. "There are several issues to consider, the, er, the tension issue, the..uh," He faltered, desperately scouring his thoughts, "The respect issue," he said finally, triumphantly. "Just, well.." Qui-Gon shrugged somewhat helplessly. "Lots of issues."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows had climbed up his forehead until they seemed in danger of leaving his head altogether. "I see," he said slowly, nodding. "Yes, I do see. And you think pushing me into doing -this-," he gestured vaguely at Qui-Gon and at the universe in general. "This is better?" he finished, somewhat incredulously.

"Well, I suppose not."

Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan slumped backwards to sprawl on the floor. His voice floated up, "That's what I always liked about you, Master. Very strong in your opinions."

Helplessly, Qui-Gon shrugged again. "What should I say? I'm improvising here. Getting tied to a chair by my love-stuck padawan is a new experience for me."

Obi-Wan snorted, shifting back to his knees in front of Qui-Gon. "Point taken and really, that's good to hear. I'd hate to think this was a common thing for you. You know how I like to be different."

Pursing his lips, Obi-Wan leaned back until he was sitting on the floor, legs crossed. "Well," he said, "You've stated your reasons why we shouldn't be lovers. In a proper debate this would be time for my rebuttal."

Qui-Gon's mouth went strangely dry at that. "Oh?"

The young man nodded, a wicked smile curving his lips. "Yeah," he replied, softly. Leaning forward, he settled his elbows on Qui-Gon's knees and rested his chin on his folded hands. "So, I should show you why we should be lovers, shouldn't I?"

He stood up, moving around Qui-Gon to stand behind him, hands resting lightly on the older man's shoulders. He started kneading the muscles there, taut from being restrained for so long and Qui-Gon had to stifle a moan. He let his head fall back and rest against Obi-Wan's chest, forgetting all the reasons why he should be protesting as strong fingers worked out the knots in his muscles. This was unwise, this...

Hands gentling, they slid upward to tangle in Qui-Gon's hair, massaging his scalp and this time he did moan, the headache that he had been courting since this began finally easing. Briefly rubbing his temples and then they slid over his face, Obi-Wan's short nails scraping lightly through his beard.

"I can't use the Force right now." Qui-Gon jumped slightly as Obi-Wan leaned forward to whisper into his ear, warm breath lightly caressing the sensitive skin. "So I can't read what you are feeling. All I have are your body's reactions to go by."

Slipping his hands under Qui-Gon's tunic, he pushed the offending fabric aside, finding the older man's nipples and stroking them. Qui-Gon gasped, not wanting to respond and yet not wanting it to end. His gasps turned into a startled yelp when the gentle touches turned into a hard pinch.

"So if you don't want something, your body will have to tell me," Obi-Wan said softly against Qui-Gon's neck and he was moving downward, kneeling behind Qui-Gon now with his arms wrapped around his master's waist. They held that pose for a long moment, Obi-Wan pressed against the back of the chair and his hands idly stroking Qui-Gon's sides.

The older man was struggling to breath, this was such a bad a idea, he knew that it was but somehow he could no longer remember why. He was achingly hard, shamefully admitted to himself that he had been since Obi-Wan first touched him. And when Obi-Wan's hands slid lower, moving over his thighs he arched into the touch, silently begging.

To his dismay, Obi-Wan released him completely, pulling back and crawling around to kneel in front of him again. He rested his hands on Qui-Gon's knees, slight smile curving his lips.

"It's very simple, Master. You told me that you don't want to be involved with me, so all you have to do is not want me." Before Qui-Gon could even take a breath to answer, Obi-Wan lowered his face to Qui-Gon's lap, stealing away the Jedi's ability to speak.

Rubbing his cheek against Qui-Gon's cloth-covered erection, Obi-Wan's eyes drifted closed and he made a soft sound of contentment. Bound as he was Qui-Gon could only watch, choking on any words of protest that he might have had as Obi-Wan nibbled down the length of his hardened shaft through his trousers.

"Just don't want me," Obi-Wan whispered between soft nips. "Stay cold to me, my master." Reaching up, he loosened the drawstrings of Qui-Gon's pants, opening them.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, not watching as his body betrayed him and his cock all but leapt into Obi-Wan's gentle hands. He hissed softly as his padawan stroked his disobedient flesh, rewarding its eagerness.

"Don't want me, Qui-Gon," he whispered again, again rubbing his cheek against his master's erection only this time it was skin on skin and Qui-Gon gave a choked gasp, thrusting upward helplessly.

Moving up, Obi-Wan kissed the head, his tongue darting out to taste the clear, bitter fluid that was pooling there. "Don't moan when I touch you, don't arch up against me."

Already disobeying the softly spoken words as Obi-Wan's mouth closed over the very tip of his cock, Qui-Gon threw his head back, a pained sound escaping him as Obi-Wan took him no deeper. Instead, Obi-Wan sucked very gently, tracing the ridge of the head with his tongue before pulling back and licking his way down the length of the shaft.

He paused there, raising his eyes to his master and found the older man watching him raptly, eyes glazed and his face damp with perspiration. He ran his tongue up the underside, circling the velvety head again and Qui-Gon's eyes closed as he struggled with himself.

"You aren't doing very well, Master," Obi-Wan said, a wicked grin curving his lips. Then he surged downward, taking Qui-Gon's entire shaft into his mouth as he applied himself with earnest.

Choking on a startled scream, Qui-Gon's eyes flew open and he struggled briefly against his bonds, his hands clenching into fists. Obi-Wan was all but devouring him, hot wet suction surrounding his cock and Qui-Gon arched up as best he could, stilted thrusts upward into Obi-Wan's sweet mouth. Eyes narrowed, Qui-Gon watched the young man kneeling at his feet, taking him, and he wondering a bit wildly how he could have ignored Obi-Wan's beauty for so long. And he was beautiful, chest bare and taut muscles flexing in his shoulders as he moved.

Gritting his teeth, Qui-Gon closed his eyes again, concentrating on the hot wetness of Obi-Wan's mouth. Close, he was so close and the wet heat abruptly left him, he nearly shouted in protest. Cold air struck his wet erection and the older man's hips thrust upward mindlessly, seeking that warm haven.

"Do you want me to finish it?" Obi-Wan whispered and Qui-Gon hissed at the delicate caress of Obi-Wan's breath on his aching cock. "Do you?" Feather-light stroke of a single finger, circling the crown and down the length of the shaft.

"Please," he whispered, hardly aware of doing so.

"I can't hear you, Master." He could feel the heat of Obi-Wan's lips, so close but not touching.

"Please!" he gritted out, no longer caring about propriety or any of the hundred reasons they shouldn't do this. A soft laugh floated up to him but before he could say another word, Obi-Wan moved and took his cock deeply into his mouth, sucking strongly, urgently and this time he did shout, unmindful of dignity as he thrust upward into that mouth, and gods that boy had a mouth, his tongue darting and stroking, and Qui-Gon shouted again, giving in to the burst of heat that surged up his spine and coming in his padawan's wonderful sweet mouth.

Sagging back in the chair, Qui-Gon gasped raggedly, dimly aware of gentle hands righting his clothing and fastening his pants. With great effort, he managed to open his eyes. Obi-Wan was still kneeling between his legs, a smug smile curving his lips. Reddened, slightly swollen lips and for a brief moment all Qui-Gon could do was look at them, still trembling in the aftermath.

Shaking away his daze, Qui-Gon cleared his throat and managed to whisper, "I believe you...won...the debate." To his surprise, a faintly wistful look came over Obi-Wan's face.

"Did I? Did I really?" he asked softly. He shook his head and got to his feet, walking behind Qui-Gon. The bonds on his wrists loosened abruptly and Qui-Gon hissed softly as his blood started circulating properly again. Rubbing his wrists, he watched as Obi-Wan untied his ankles as well and then resumed his kneeling position.

"I'm prepared to accept any punishment that you see fit, Master," he said quietly, head bowed. Qui-Gon looked down at his padawan, thinking of everything the young man had put him through this day...and of everything that he had learned about this man since the moment they had first met. His aggravating, infuriating padawan who would try Master Yoda's patience, who had tied him to a -chair- to make him listen.

And who had the most beautifully expressive eyes that Qui-Gon had ever seen, eyes that were at this moment focused intently on the floor. Sighing, he slipped one finger beneath Obi-Wan's chin and tipped his head up.

"You really are annoying, do you know that?"

Obi-Wan gave him a completely unbelievable innocent look and Qui-Gon leaned down to kiss it away, pushing the younger man down on the floor and stretching out full length over him. Obi-Wan murmured a complaint against Qui-Gon's lips about the hard floor and he ignored it. Obi-Wan had wanted this, he could deal with the floor, and if not, well, there was always the chair...and the ties.

-finis-


End file.
